Next!
by D McVetty
Summary: The boys are on a reality dating show where they get to choose how long the date is. With Cartman, Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Tweek and Butters, somethings gotta go wrong. / T for highly extensive swearing / My First OC Story, accepting OCs!
1. Cartman Gets an Interview

**note ;;** My first (and _only_) OC fanfiction. I got this idea at work and couldn't let it go. If anyone has watched MTV, they should know of the awesome show called Next, which is the entire premise of this story. I need OCs to go on dates with the boys. Obviously, they will be Next'd, so I suggest you don't have extremely thin skin if you submit your OC. I'd like to keep this a long-running story, so I'll be accepting OC's as they come. I may be picky or I may not, I'm not entirely sure at this point. I do know I'm excited to write some dates.

**disclaimers ;; **South Park is not mine, and neither is Next. Both belong to their respective owners.

**summary ;;** The boys are signed up for a reality show where they go on dates with people from different areas and can choose to date them again, or send them off and get a new date. Hilarity ensues.

**characters ;;** Cartman, Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Butters, Tweek (for now, more may be added)

* * *

"Are you ready?" the director asks, moving around the staging equipment.

"Am _I _ready? You're kidding, right? I was _born_ ready," Eric Cartman scoffs.

"You're on in three."

The man behind the lead camera holds up three fingers, putting each down after the other as the crew moves around with their microphones and their secondary cameras. Reaching three, the cameraman clicks record. "Rolling!" he announces.

Cartman looks directly into the camera and crosses his hands over his waist dramatically, grabbing his crotch. "Yo, people, my name is Eric Cartman and I'm gonna fuck your shit up!" he shouts.

"Cut!"

The cameras stop rolling, and Cartman gives the director an upset glare. "What was that for, assface?" he demands.

The director walks over, shaking his head. "You can't say fuck, and you're _not_ black, so cut it out. You're a South Park kid. Home grown morals and all that," he says, motioning with his hands.

"I can too say 'fuck,' they say it all the goddamn time!"

"There's a 'fuck' quota," the director explains. "We can only allow it on the show so many times."

Cartman scoffs, staring at the man as if he'd get his way. Rolling his eyes, he shrugs. "Fine. Whatever. Are we going to do this?" he asks.

The director gives him one last stern glance before turning back to the camera crew and nodding. Again, the man behind the camera holds his fingers up, counting them down before announcing that they are rolling.

Cartman, again, looks directly into the camera, a huge, shiteating grin across his face. "My name is Eric Cartman, and I'm gonna show you the fuckin' time of your fuckin' life, you fuckin' fuck."

"Cut!" the director shouts angrily. "Eric Cartman! What did I say?"

"You have a quota for 'fucks.' I'm using them up before that faggot Jew fuck can," Cartman protests innocently.

Holding his temper, the Director puts his hand over his eyes. "Goddamnit, kid, just stick to the script."

"There _is_ no script."

"Tell us your name, your age, what you like to do, your political views, anything. Just stop with the swearing!" Walking back to the camera man, he holds a wispered conversation before nodding to Eric. "One last chance, or you're out."

"No way! I am _not_ letting Kyle take my spot!"

The Director looks back at him. "Then don't swear! Rolling in three... two... one... _action!_"

"My name is Eric Cartman, and I'm ten years old. I go to South Park elementary and I fu-" Eric catches himself at the last second, glancing to the Director before continuing. "-_freaking_ hate Mr. Garrison. When I was eight, I started the Young Republicans club for youth. Republicans for life!" Cartman pumps his fist in the air, and the director stands up, calling a cut.

"That was good Eric," he says. Turning to the camera man, he shakes his head. "This episode is going to require a lot of fucking editing."

* * *

**submitting ;;** Please include name, age, personality, hobbies, likes, dislikes, favorite food, favorite movie, favorite music artist, and any other random information. Also include a few things they would say or do, so I know how to capture them better. I don't need a history of your OC for this story (sorry). I'm looking forward to some good ones!

**gender ;;** BOTH genders are accepted. There will be some same-sex frolicking going on, I have no problem with it and I actually prefer to write it that way anyhow. So, ahem, send in those OCs and I'll be writing up a few chapters tonight. ;)


	2. Alice, Angelina, and Shirley get Next

**note ;;** OCs may be recycled if I enjoy writing them and I write them to your standards. I realize some people wanted other pairings, but I wrote what I pictured when reading your OC submissions. Don't worry if yours isn't here, because I will be using some more. Especially Connor and Laura. ;) So no fears to those of you who aren't here. Also, please be patient with me. I've never done an OC story before, so if your OC isn't down pat, just let me know and I'll certainly work on it.

**note ii ;;** I'll still accept new OC submissions. Later chapters may be much shorter, and I may end up making each chapter a single date. Let me know what you think about that. This chapter seems a tad long for a humor, what do you think? Please do review. I love reviews.

**chosen oc's ;;** Alice Lufkin, Shirley Baker, and Angelina Marsh

**next chapter ;; **A total surprise. ='D

Alice Lufkin bounces in her seat, grinning widely at the girls across from her. They don't seem as enthused to be here, but no one can possibly measure up to Alice's enthusiasm anyway. The bus rumbles to a stop, and she giggles excitedly. "Alice can't believe we're all here! Alice wonders if he's cute! Maybe he'll bring Alice to China! Alice has never _been_ to China, y'know, but she hears they have really pretty colors out there."

Shirley Baker looks up from picking her nose, bewilderment across her face. "Does my hair look okay? I mean, I brushed it and combed it and put some good-smelling stuff in it, like it was named _La Perfume_ or something, it _sounded_ expensive, but I don't know if it looks okay."

Angelina Marsh grins and rolls her eyes. "Your hair looks like a billion bucks," she says. "Don't sweat it, I'm sure he'll be _all_ over you when he gets the chance."

Shirley pats her hair down and smiles. "Cool."

Over the speaker, the man driving the bus clears his throat. "Well, girls, this is where one of you gets off and starts the date. Remember your parts. No swearing! God knows that fatass swears enough for everyone on the show _and_ in the crew. Goddam..." Coughing, he gets back on track. "Alice, looks like you're first up. So walk out the door and do something dramatic."

Alice jumps up. "This is gonna be awesome!" she exclaims. Bouncing out of her seat, she rushes to the door and pushes it open, throwing her hands out and giving the waiting cameraman a crazy face. The man looks confused and a little scared, but she grins and continues down the stairs. Later, on television, as she is giving a crazy face, the screen will pause and the following will be displayed : _Alice Lufkin, 10 years old, Student, Saw The Hangover three hundred times in theaters, Bakes 'special' brownies._

That is later, and this is now.

She bounces happily up to the table that is set up and eagerly looks for her date.

Cartman walks from around the side of the white tent and stops. "NEXT!" he shouts.

"Cut!"

The Director stalks over to the pair. "Eric Cartman! What did I say?"

"You didn't say _anything_ about nexting someone as soon as they walk out," he replies.

"We have a _show_ to make, kid! Do you _want_ to be kicked off?"

"Goddamnit, no I don't want to be kicked off! She's hurting my eyes! It looks like a gay smurf ate skittles and puked up her outfit!" Cartman protests.

The Director takes the sunglasses off his hat, shoving them towards Eric. "Take these and make this date last!"

"Fine. Jesus. You don't have to be a crabass about it..."

Alice stares at the confrontation, her eyes wide as saucers. She looks down at her outfit, consisted completely of neon pink, green, and blue, and wonders what exactly is hurting to look at. The colors look great together. "_Buona giomata_!"

Eric stares at her.

"_Buona giomata_!" she repeats.

"What the fuck are you saying?" he asks. "Are you a goddamned Chinese?"

"Eric!" the director shouts angrily.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Cartman calls, waving his hands in a symbol of peace. He gestures towards her enthusiastically. "She's spewing gibberish, she's a witch!"

"Alice is not a witch!" she protests. "Alice simply said, _hello_, in Italian. It's her natural language, y'know."

"Oh, fuck me," Cartman whispers under his breath. "It talks in third person."

The Director shakes his head, whispering to the camera man, "We'll just have to edit him out in the end. Let him think he's going to be on the show."

Alice looks down. "So what are we doing?" she asks.

"I thought we could go on a bridge and push you off," Cartman suggests.

Alice looks shocked, and the Director almost calls cut.

Cartman quickly catches himself, shrugging. "I mean, we can base jump off that bridge." The place he points to is a tall bridge, far over the ground, towering into the sky.

Alice gulps. "Um... Alice... doesn't really like heights," she explains. "They make her uncomfortable."

"All the more reason for us to get up there," Cartman says, leading the way as Alice follows behind. "So what do you like to do?"

"Alice likes to play her violin, and sometimes, if she has a lot of time, she likes to paint. Oh, oh, and figure skating!" Alice replies, happy the conversation is changing. Maybe she can convince him to _not_ go to the scary bridge, after all!

"Seriouslah?" he asks.

"Oh, yes."

"No. No, no, no. Next."

Alice puffs her cheeks out, glaring daggers at him. "What?" she demands. "Like I need your stupid date anyway, you mean pile of lard!" Snorting and turning away, she quickly walks back to the bus, leaving a miffed, yet amused, Cartman behind. As she climbs onto the bus, she is bombarded by questions.

"Is he cute?"

"What's he like?"

"You took the money, didn't you?"

She looks up at Angelina Marsh, frowning. "There was money? No one told Alice about this," she muses. "Should she go back and ask?"

The bus driver pipes up over the speakers. "No money, honeys, just some good old entertainment. You're all underage, and it'd be considered prostitution. Not sayin' I don't like a prostitute, but... well... you know. Underage prostitutes are a pretty big fine around... Ahem, well, anyway, Angelina, its your turn. Remember to do something crazy going out the door."

Arching her eyebrows, Angelina nods to her two companions before walking out the door. She gives a peace sign to the camera man, sticking her tongue out. This is the part where, on the television, it will pause, and on the screen will be displayed the following ; _Angelina Marsh, 10 years old, Student, Knows the words to _Alejandro _by heart, Probably bipolar because of her little sisters._

But not now.

She parades down the walkway to Cartman, who is staring at her with wide eyes. She pretends not to notice, and instead looks at the assortment of objects on the table. "Are we having a _toy_ party?" she asks, winking.

Cartman rolls his eyes, even if he _secretly_ likes a chick that can tell a dirty joke. "No, we're going to make sculptures out of the shit here. Sounds pretty gay to me, but whatever, that's what the producers said."

Moving over to the assortment of objects, Angelina picks up a long stick. "So, are they overcompensating for something?"

Cartman almost laughs, but catches himself. "No," he says again, trying to sound irritated. "Stop trying to be funny, its not working."

Angelina tries to ignore his annoying comments, but she finds she cant. Its in her genes to be annoyed easily, and she tosses the stick down. "Fine, Mr. Sassy Pants, whatever. What are we doing, since you're _so obviously_ in charge?"

Taken aback, Cartman takes a moment to gather his thoughts. "I guess the director says we have to introduce ourselves. I'm Eric Cartman, you better remember it."

"Angelina Marsh," she says, holding her hand out for a friendly shake.

"No way," Cartman breaths. "Are you related to Stan Marsh?"

"He's my cousin," Angelina answers.

"Sick, dude. No way am I going on a date with that fag boy's cousin! Next!"

Angelina throws her hands up. "Like I wanted to date your fat ass, you chunk of gristle!" She spins around and stalks back to the bus, fuming as she boards. The girls look at her, but she offers no insight to what happened. She sits down and crosses her arms, muttering under her breath in different languages.

The bus driver crackles over the intercom again. "So, um, Shirley, looks like its your turn. Knock 'em dead, you sexy-" he stops and static is heard before he comes back. "Shit, I mean, you awesome chick. Yeah. Sexy would mean I thought prepubescent girls are sexy, and I definitely don't think that. Haha, no way."

Shirley finishes picking her nose and runs her hand through her hair. "This is going to be awesome," she says. As she walks down the steps of the bus, she trips and flails, falling face-first towards the camera man. In this moment, as she is making a face of shock and her mouth is open in a silent scream, the television will pause, and the following will be displayed ; _Shirley Baker, 10 years old, Student, Dungeon Master for a nerdy game, Has read all the Harry Potter books, Couldn't walk straight to save her life._

Ah, the power to know the future.

She falls to the ground and picks herself up immediately, grinning. "I'm okay!" she announces to an unfazed crowd of camera crew. She walks to Cartman and holds her hand out, a booger hanging from her finger. "I'm Shirley Baker!" she says. "Nice to meet you!"

"What is on your face?" Cartman asks bluntly, side-stepping the introductions.

She retracts her hand and puts it over the mole. "Nothing! Mind your own business!"

"If I'm going to be dating you, I should know about the growth on your face. It might be contagious and I don't want _cooties_."

Frowning, she keeps her hand over her face. "I thought we were supposed to be on a date! Why are you being so mean?"

Cartman sighs, shaking his head as he puts an arm around her shoulders. He leads her in the direction of the bus slowly as he talks. "Listen, Shirley - is it okay if I call you Shirley?-, I don't want to be mean, but you're not really in my league. You're about a zero, and I'm, well, I'm a Hero. And you can never contend."

"What does that mean?" Shirley asks.

"Next!" Cartman replies, pushing her towards the bus. "Haha! Like any of you had a chance!"

Shirley runs to the bus, hiding her face in her hands. As she gets on the bus, the other girls bombard her with questions.

The Director walks to Cartman and glares. "What did I tell you?"

"Not to next them immediately."

"Or within two minutes."

"Jesus Christ, man, did you see the thing on her face? And a booger on her finger! _Booger_!" Cartman protests.

"No," the Director says, shaking his head as he walks back to the director's chair.


	3. Laura and Sofia have Fun with Balls

**note ;; **Quick updates, yes? Its my off-day from work, which is why I'm writing so much. I'll have everyone know that writing this chapter made me giggle. I hope everyone else enjoys it as much as I did. I'll be making as many individual replies to reviews as possible, though sometimes reviews slip through my view. Sorry about that. I hope I keep the humor... No bus-man this chapter. I heart him too, but I had something else in mind for this chapter. ;) Now, its off to replying to reviews! Please enjoy this chapter.

**note ii ;; **_As always_, please let me know if your character is out of character. Again, this is my first time doing something like this.

**chosen oc's ;; **Laura McCarthy and Sofia Lynd

**next chapter ;;** More bus-man. Promise. ;D

* * *

"Kid, you know how to talk, don't you?"

"Mmm mmh," Kenny replies for the hundredth time.

"That's not _talking_. People don't want to read _subtitles. _Am I going to need a translator?" the Director asks.

Kenny sighs grumpily and pushes his hood off, revealing his messy mop of blonde hair. "Are you happy? I'm having a bad fucking hairday."

"Goddamnit, you too? There's a swearing quota on this show, believe it or not," the Director warns. "Get ready, you're up next."

"Bring on the pussy, I love it all," Kenny says eagerly, holding his hands out and moving them as if he's playing with boobs. "Oh, and tits. God, I love women."

The Director looks to the camera man, but can't possibly say anything. He came to South Park for home-grown morals and kids with a level head. He found more than he ever bargained for. He motions to the camera crew, slumping in his seat as the cameras start rolling.

Laura McCarthy saunters out of the _Next!_ bus, charm bracelet clinking around her wrist as she strikes an elegant pose. Here, on the future television screen, it will no doubt say something along the lines of ; _Laura McCarthy, 9 years old, Student, Aspires to be in a musical version of Desperate Housewives, Once dared her brother Lloyd to eat a bug._

But that is for another day.

She grins at the orange-clad boy before her, almost squealing in excitement. Her eyes wander from him, to the white jump suits, to him again. "What are we doing?" she asks curiously, barely able to contain her excitement.

"We're going to shoot each other. With paintballs," Kenny says. Seeing the look on her face, he shrugs. "I thought it was a stupid idea too, but they said it would be interesting."

"They?"

"That asshole over in the seat. Director, or whatever his name is."

"Oh..."

"Ready?" he asks.

"Sure!"

Kenny hands her a suit, then climbs into his own. He doesn't put the mask on, but instead lets it hang on his chest. He picks up a pistol-shaped paintball gun and motions for the girl to pick one up too. His gaze never, _ever_, leaves her chest.

"Kenny, my eyes are up here," she reminds him, pointing to her face.

"I know that," Kenny says casually, shrugging. "Ready to shoot me? Or would you rather let _me _shoot _you_?"

Laura blushes furiously, and quickly flips the mask up to cover her rosy red cheeks. "Maybe," she says in a rushed voice.

Kenny grins. "Ten seconds before we shoot," he warns. "Ready? Ten..."

The seconds tick by fast, and they're standing in opposite corners before the end. Kenny shouts _Go!_ and the game is off. He waits until he hears the paintballs pinging the space around him before jumping up and nailing the girl straight in the center of the chest, spraying purple paint everywhere.

"Ow!" Laura yelps. She glares at Kenny, who comes up to her and shrugs apologetically.

"Gotta say, I like a girl with tits like yours, but I want a girl to roughhouse with too," he says. "Next."

"But _Kenny..._"

"Next!" he repeats. "Maybe _next_ time."

Laura sighs and looks down, trudging back to the bus in silence. She isn't on the bus for two minutes before the next girl comes out. Long, loosely curly hair frames a pale face with a cigarette poking out of pale pink lips. Her black boots thud onto the steps, carrying her closer to her destination. Sofia Lynd pauses on the last step of the bus, taking the cigarette out of her mouth and blowing a stream of smoke. In television, this is the point the picture would still, and highlighted somewhere on the screen would be the following ; _Sofia Lynd, 10 years old, Chainsmoker, Probably has kleptomania, Once scared the bejeezes out of Tweek while ordering coffee._

But at a much later time.

She strides up to Kenny, blowing smoke before dropping the butt of the cigarette on the ground. "Hello," she says formally.

Kenny narrows his eyes for a moment, but doesn't question it. He appreciates her curves and her hair, and there's not much else his ten year old mind can want, so he ignores it. "Hey," he says.

"So what are we doing?"

"Um... paintball."

"Isn't that what the _last_ date was?"

Kenny shrugs. "I suppose. They didn't give me anything else."

"Typical."

"Yeah." Kenny tosses her a white jumpsuit, and she stares at it blankly. He thinks he's done something wrong until she laughs and drops it on the ground.

"Really?" she asks. "I'm _not_ wearing that."

Kenny shrugs. "Suit yourself. If you want your Hot Topic clothes paint-stained, that's cool with me."

"They're _not_ Hot Topic," she defends, narrowing her eyes.

"They _will_ be paint stained," he points out.

"We'll see about that," Sofia muses, laughing to herself as she grabs the second paintgun. "I'll take you down," she says confidently.

Kenny scoffs. "Yeah, right," he says. "We have ten seconds to get situated before we can shoot each other."

"Better start the countdown, then," Sofia replies casually, observing her paintgun closely. "Ten... nine... eight..."

"Seven... six... five..."

The pair moves apart, each taking cover in different areas of the small paintball field. Kenny hides behind a white-tarped hay bale, and Sofia takes cover near a tractor tire.

"Three... two... one..."

"Go!" they shout in unison.

Kenny jumps up from behind the hay hale, firing three times before ducking down as Sofia pegs the bale where his face had been. He laughs and jumps out of his cover again, aiming precisely as he shoots. She fires at the same time, and he can't dodge as it hits him square in the chest. His paintball makes its mark over Sofia's left boob, and he makes a victorious gesture.

"Got you!" he shouts gleefully as he ducks behind a barrel.

"I got you too!" she retorts, hiding behind a stack of bricks.

"First one to three wins!"

"You're on!"

Kenny jumps out from behind the barrel, firing three shots at Sofia's position. He pauses when he doesn't see her come up, and he walks forward, holding the gun out carefully. Too late, he realizes she's moved position. Two paintballs peg him in the side and he nearly doubles over from the impact.

"Three," Sofia says, waltzing out from behind the hay bale.

"You're good," Kenny observes. "Do I get a kiss?"

Sofia laughs. "No, you lost."

"A cigarette then?"

Sofia stares at him, arching a slender eyebrow. "You think you can have my cigarette?"

"Mole gave me his all the time," Kenny says defensively. "The kid's a bad habit himself."

Sofia has a longing look on her face at the mention of Mole, and it is Kenny's turn to arch an eyebrow. However, she doesn't seem to notice as she tosses him a half-smoked cigarette. "You can light it yourself, yeah?"

"Um, no. I have no match."

"I'm nexting myself until Mole shows up," Sofia admits. "See you around, Kenny."

Left standing in the middle of the paintball field, Kenny stares at Sofia's retreating back. "What? Can she do that?" he demands of the Director.

"Yeah. She can do whatever she wants."

Kenny watches her disappear into the bus. Looking at his unlit cigarette, he tosses it to the ground. "Fuck!"


End file.
